Dear Husband:

Man, I bet you're looking forward to getting me out of your freaking hair for a few days. Not that I'm not stunning and otherwise useful, but sheesh. All this freaking out stuff is for the birds. And I mean Birds as in Women. You can go get yourself freaked out with Lisa for a week, and leave me the freak alone. I'm sure something similar is going through your head right now. During these last two weeks, I'm sure you've gotten your fill of the wife who has to freak out about something before her day can be started. I know it must be annoying. Especially when I freak out about the time, or when I freak my way into taking a shower first (even though you go in 1/2 hour earlier than I do) or when I run around like a crazy lady. That's gotta suck. Let me just say, I know how much I've sucked.

These past two weeks have been rough on me, I'm sure you can see it. Working full-time is never fun at a job you're only half-hearted about. It makes it less fun when you're habituated to working 3 days a week, four hours per day and you get slung into the full-on-drudgery of it all. I know you understand, but I'm explaining anyway - yet another thing to look forward to in the blissfull week next. Fewer explainations. It's not that I think you're not smart, husband, it's just that you've perfected the art of pretending to know what someone is talking about, even when you're clueless. It's very endearing - somehow I think my explaining everything just in case you didn't get it (Stop yelling, I don't do it in public! And it's only sometimes! I'm exaggerating!) is less endearing, eh?

Oh, baby. I'm going to miss you so much.